


The Dream

by dreaminghour



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety, Bisexual Angst, Bisexual Steve Rogers, F/M, Gen, General, M/M, Stucky - Freeform, Yeah I know...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 23:06:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7381210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreaminghour/pseuds/dreaminghour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has a dream and wakes to find himself alone with his thoughts...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RembrandtsWife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RembrandtsWife/gifts), [YvonneSilver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YvonneSilver/gifts).



Crickets stormed the night. He met Peggy at an outdoor theater where people brought their own lawn chairs and sat on the banks of the Hudson. They were just across the river in New Jersey, the lights of the city in the distance. They laid down a blanket, and the movie began. When Peggy shivered and Steve naturally slipped an arm around her back, she turned to him and it was as though the darkness had consumed the other audience members, the night bugs drowned out the actors on the screen.

She'd reached up, her fingers played at the throat of his collar.

"I can think of several reasons why we shouldn't," Steve whispered.

"What if I just want to?"

There was a roaring in his ears as their lips met, the taste of salt still in their mouths, though he couldn't remember eating popcorn. A thunder clap woke him and when he sat up in his cot he was back in northern England. Outside, the morning was dark from the oppressive rain that poured down. He was alone.

* * *

 

The rain stopped not long before lunch. That day was the first performance of the Captain America show in front of soldiers. Steve was looking forward to it, holding to that image of the morale boosters that traveled from camp to camp where movies couldn't be set up. He stayed in his khakis until the show, sitting on a piece of wood that somewhat resembled a bench, watching the soldiers play cards, smoke cigarettes and wait. He had no idea what for. Certainly not for him. They were finishing their training, soon to go to the front.

He wasn't anything like these men, they did the grunt work that carried the rest of them through the war. He still held onto the inner flame though, remembering what he'd been told all those months ago while touring the United States. His performance in London a couple days ago had secured his place here at the training camp, and he looked forward to crossing the continent with them. He wanted to push them on. He wanted to do that at least.

An abrupt laugh, something almost annoying sounding rang out of the mess as it's door swung open. A group of sergeants strolled out, speaking carelessly to one another and though there were four of them, the leader stood out obviously among them. In the few seconds he saw them, Steve felt he understood the basic dynamic of that group. He understood the charisma the loud-mouth exuded, he turned his head to follow them as they walked to the stage, taking the best seats. That strident laugh resounded again, though the men were far away, and no one else had assembled yet. Steve wasn't thinking about them anymore.

He recognized the feeling, one that didn't occur more often than the pulse in his temple when rain threatened. Nothing since the tour had begun. It was harder to acknowledge an attraction that he felt for a fellow man when there were so many pretty girls throwing themselves at him. He barely had time to register the fact a woman existed before she made it plain whether she was interested or not.

Except with Peggy he'd known shortly after she'd spoken to him directly, spoken to him like he'd been a person. And then continued to speak to him the same, even after...

That didn't happen with men. With men he had the time to figure out if he was admiring something specific or generally drawn in by some _je ne sais qoui._

It had been months since he'd let the feeling burble up, since he'd sat and pondered whether he was jealous or attracted to someone, and tentatively concluded that sometimes the two were too similar. Did he want something from that man?

He didn't dare answer.

He wasn't even really thinking about the unknown soldier and his comrades anymore. He stared at his hands and felt a slight tightness in his chest, nothing like asthma, but so much worse. A fear that the sky would crash down on him was coming.

The serum fixed things, made the good better and the bad worse. But this _unnatural_ attraction had remained the same, a constant. He didn't get far beyond that with his thought, before his breath felt short. He didn't wander the avenues of freedom beyond accepting this, because a roadblock existed between ignoring this and allowing it to reside inside himself.

 _If I am attracted to men as well as women,_ he thought, _what does that mean for my friendship with Bucky?_

He'd stopped carrying the torch for Bucky a long time ago. Back then a girl who went to secretary school down the block had kissed him and he'd been so relieved to feel something, to feel _normal_ that he'd pushed all the other feelings down. He'd subdued the flame and even though for a while it hurt to go out with Bucky's girl and others who, like Christine from down the block, had no lasting interest in Steve, eventually it was a numb feeling. The fear that he was wrong in yet another way crept up on him from time to time, but it was always wrangled away with the hope of ' _this time'_ meeting the dame who'd step out with him more than once.

_Except now, it was back. If these feelings were back now, and this wasn't a fluke..._

He rested his head in his hands.

_Did that mean that my friendship with Bucky was real? What do I want from my best friend? Do I want..._

He looked up again, saw the nothing-special line of the man's torso, saw the definition of slack muscles, the flop of rain-moistened hair, and knew something about himself that he desperately didn't want to admit to himself.

_I'm afraid that if I say anything, even to myself, I'll lose him. Even if I never breathe a word, maybe he'll know, maybe he'll suspect, maybe I'll just..._

_Maybe the flame will come back and I won't be able to look at him anymore without feeling that old pain._

**Author's Note:**

> I love these kinds of ficlets. Let me know what you think~ Thanks for reading.
> 
> Special thanks to "Uncured" by YvonneSilver (http://archiveofourown.org/works/3919003), "Moonlight Serenade" by Mommybird (http://archiveofourown.org/works/1610462), and "Too Darn Hot" by Mommybird (http://archiveofourown.org/works/1884624) for inspiration. ♥


End file.
